—— ? ——

  Simon’s eyes remained closed as he waited for his death.

  But it didn’t come.

  Annoyed, he opened his eyes to see the hammer head inches from his face.

  “Come on, man. That was actually a great line. What the fuck are you doing?” Simon said, his voice raw.

  Simon leaned to the side, looking up at Maelis’ face.

  The yoreboon’s face was twisted in fury, and it looked like he was fighting an internal demon.

  Simon glanced around, trying to figure out what the fuck was happening.

  The hammer slowly pulled back. The motion was jerky, like a puppet's arm being pulled on a string.

  “You will not disobey the master'ssss commands." A hissing voice echoed from the side. Simon looked to his right and raised an eyebrow. The voice had come from a vessel near him.

  “What?”

  The vessel stomped toward them. It was the one who used the axe that had landed countless blows on Simon. Another one moved up and pulled Maelis back.

  “Our master hassss a question.”

  Simon turned his attention to the axe wielder.

  “He does?” Simon said, his confusion growing. “I mean, okay?”

  “Isss refusing to be his subordinate really worth dying for?”

  Simon thought about it, then shrugged.

  “Yeah, I’m not going to be some battle slave. Fuck that.” Simon rolled a stiff shoulder. “I’m not changing my mind.”

  Simon set his jaw. “I would rather die free than be stuck serving some asshole.”

  —— ? ——

  Varrax watched through the eyes of the Phestun vessel.

  It had stunned him that Simon had turned him down. Rage had boiled in him, and he watched with satisfaction as he was beaten.

  The frustrating mortal kept trying to rise, over and over again.

  Varrax was fascinated. He shifted to his servant’s view, the one known as Maelis, and dug through his memories. Varrax pulled everything related to Simon out and examined it. The images he saw sparked his curiosity.

  If he had a follower who held this resolve, just what could they do?

  A deep memory surfaced in Varrax. He had seen this before. A mortal who bucked the gods and never stopped. One who had…

  Varrax shuddered and shook the memory from his mind.

  But still, even the slight comparison made the greed in Varrax grow. He had to have this tool.

  But how? It seemed Simon was more than willing to die in defiance.

  There must be a way. Varrax couldn’t just let this opportunity fade away.

  So he had commanded his rabid dog to stop. But like every rabid creature, his servant refused to listen.

  Luckily, he had a leash. A simple command to the hive mind, and the rabid mortal had been stopped.

  He would punish him later, but right now, he listened as the defiant mortal once again swore at him.

  Varrax glanced at the other constructs in his realm. Countless victories were pronounced as construct after construct turned red. His gaze turned back to Varnholt Valley.

  He pulled into his divine pool of energy and paid the cost.

  —— ? ——

  Simon stared the Phestun vessel down, his mind calming. The ever-present pain dulled as he focused on breathing.

  Long seconds of silence passed as he waited for a response.

  He glanced over at Maelis. The smith looked enraged, his face shifting and twisting. Yet the yoreboon didn’t move.

  Simon was about to say something when the vessel started to glow. Starting at their eyes, their entire body started to crack with a red dancing energy.

  A familiar smell wafted out, one Simon remembered. It was a mixture of heat, old blood and metal.

  The glowing eyes that had been staring into the sky shifted to Simon.

  “Truly.” A deep voice ripped from the vessel. It felt like the hammer blows Simon had been subjected to.

  “You would rather die than serve me? Yet you accepted the blessing of the insignificant bard known as Melodian.”

  Simon’s eyebrows raised. “You’re here? Huh.” Simon shook his head. “Not like I had much of a choice. The system made sure of that.”

  “Hm.” The vessel nodded, its neck splitting with hairline fractures. “That is its way. The so-called system sets its rules and its methods, and all are forced to abide by it. Even we gods must follow its rules.”

  The vessel cocked its head, small chunks of flesh burned and fell off. “And yet you seem to think you can simply refuse? That you are somehow able to deny the truth of this universe?”

  Simon met the vessel, aka Varrax’s, long gaze and shrugged.

  “Pretty much.”

  A deep rumbling laugh rolled out from the vessel. “You fascinate me, mortal. When you first stood before me, I took you as nothing more than an arrogant ant who had not realized their place. I believed you would simply be another in the countless number of mortals that perish across the realms. Or you would learn the reality of the universe and change course.”

  Varrax waved the vessel’s hand towards Simon.

  “I suppose the first assumption was correct, as here you are about to die for your misguided stubbornness.”

  “No thanks to you,” Simon grumbled.

  “Oh come now, this situation is not my fault.” The vessel shook its head.

  “Really? How do you figure that, protein boy?”

  The vessel shook its head. “You really are just a stubborn child. A stubborn one.” The red mist-like energy around the vessel pulsed. “I may have cursed you, mortal. But I did not make you ceaselessly pursue a martial path as you have. You are the one responsible for that. You stubbornly slam your face into a door that was closed by your own arrogance.”

  Simon opened his mouth, then closed it.

  Well fuck.

  Another booming laugh rolled off the vessel. “I see by your expression that you agree. Good. Should I really be the focus of your frustration? Didn’t Melodian the Maggot cause your situation itself? I did not put you in this valley. This is not a valley for one such as you.”

  The vessel waved toward the barrier-covered Varnholt, its eyes sweeping over the pulsing light.

  “This place has no future for one like you. Melodian must have known that. Yet, he selected this place for you. The system would never have placed you in a town of artisans.”

  It turned its gaze back to Simon.

  “Direct your anger towards the true source of your woes.”

  Simon clenched his teeth. “I’m gonna die here, so what does it matter? Also, it looks like your skin is melting.”

  The vessel looked down at its hands. “Mortals are simply too weak to withstand our possession,” it turned its eyes back up to Simon. “And I haven’t decided if you are going to die yet.”

  Simon narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to serve you. I’m not going to serve any fucking god.”

  The vessel smiled. “Really? Even at this cost?”

  Simon nodded.

  “A shame. I am truly curious just how far you could go with the right support.” The glowing eyes bored into Simon, its expression thoughtful. “What if there was another way?”

  “I’m pretty sure I made myself clear.” Simon clenched his fists.

  “You have. Which is why I’m going to offer you this.”

  *Ding!*

  Simon glanced at the notification and was about to just charge the fucking asshole, when his brain registered what they said. He turned his gaze back to the notice.

  —- SYSTEM NOTICE —-

  > A DEITY HAS OFFERED A BOON

  > Deity: Varrax the Unyielding.

  > Traits aligned: Combat Prowess, Willpower, Resilience, Tactical Instinct.

  > Boon: Curse Removal, Combat class.

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  > Effects: Varrax the Unyielding will remove their curse from you. Most martial advancement paths will be opened to you, and any blocked skills will be gained. Martial energy will be able to be used and channeled. You will be able to use martial weapons and weapons of war. Additionally, Varrax the Unyielding has offered two combat classes.

  > Classes:

  >> Battle Bard of the Martial Domain.

  >> Description: The Battle Bard of the Martial Domain is a fighter who bends rhythm, motion, and brutality into their weapons of carnage. Through brutal repetition, instinct, and willpower, the battle bard forces their enemies to submit. While you are still a bard, battle is your true love and focus. Skills gained from this class will help you to guide your non-martial skills toward combat utility.

  >> Adaptive Warrior of the Martial Domain

  >> Description: The Adaptive Warrior of the Martial Domain takes the chaos of battle and bends it to their will. Through instinct and adaptation, the adaptive warrior responds and flows with each battle. Unpredictability and resourcefulness are the hallmarks of this path. Skills gained will expand your ability to react to situations on any battlefield.

  >> WARNING: The Skill “Theodia’s Instrumental Summon” will be replaced if this class is chosen. The Epic - Growth skill “Adaptive Armament” a martial weapon summoning technique, will take its place.

  > Conditions: This boon does not require direct allegiance to the martial god: Varrax the Unyielding. However, it does not come without restriction.

  Acceptance of this boon binds you to neutrality toward Varrax the Unyielding and his forces

  You may not act directly against Varrax, his followers or disrupt their operations. You will be unable to pledge allegiance to any other deity.

  In exchange, you are granted access to training halls, resources, and recognition equivalent to an Initiate of the Martial Faith. This access is given freely and may be revoked.

  You must also choose one of the two classes. Your choice will be assigned immediately.

  > Will you accept this blessing? Yes - No.

  > Note: If you accept this blessing, your unaffiliated status will not change, however you will be restricted from hostile actions toward the force led by Varrax’s followers.

  ——————————

  Simon read the notice, then read it again.

  He turned his eyes to the vessel that was falling apart.

  “Really? After every time I have called you an asshole, you’re offering me this? Why?” Simon asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.

  “I’m simply curious.” The vessel smiled.

  Simon looked at the notice, then asked. “And the whole part about not pledging to other gods?”

  The vessel gave him a look.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s fair. Not really planning on it. But what about revoking access?”

  The vessel’s face tensed. “I can understand your aversion to the divine, yet I will not tolerate slander.”

  Okay. So, if I call him an asshole, then no hanging out in church. Makes sense.

  “I believe my offer is beyond generous. There are so many opportunities awaiting you in the countless realms. Will you really continue in your stubborn arrogance?”

  The words rang in Simon's skull. He looked between the notice and the crackling, smiling face of the vessel.

  “What about Varnholt?” Simon asked.

  “What about it?” The vessel cocked its head. “Aren’t they the ones that banished you?”

  “Not all of them,” Simon replied defensively. “There are some people inside who helped me.”

  “Then I will simply send them out of town. Regardless, I will conquer this place.”

  Simon stared, his mind a blur. Was this really happening? Talking about the town dug up painful memories. This entire thing was hitting him like a freight train. He never expected something like this.

  Wasn’t this what he wanted? To be left alone? He had never asked to be cursed. Hell he had no choice in the matter.

  Well, kind of.

  But now an answer stared at him. Through a system notice and glowing eyes.

  “I’m just… I…” Simon tried to form words. He was in so much pain. He was so tired. This whole day was a rollercoaster. From Kaelalin’s funeral to announcement, to the battle, to near death, to this.

  Wait.

  Kaelalin.

  “Do you know of a way to bring someone back to life?” Simon asked, studying the vessel.

  “I do.”

  “Explain then.”

  “I won’t. Do not forget, mortal, while I am being generous and forgiving, you are the one who has blasphemed my name.” Varrax’s voice was cold. It sang with restrained fury. “But, I understand how it feels to watch your comrades fall. There are many ways to resurrect a mortal. All of them are difficult or costly beyond your comprehension. Simply telling you this is the extent of what I can say.”

  The vessel bent down and sat cross-legged, its eyes closing.“I will give you a moment to think. My patience is wearing thin. Make your choice, mortal.”

  Simon read the offer again.

  Did he trust this?

  He wasn’t sure. Simon didn’t even have the beginning of what he needed to understand this. But as he read it again, his mind latched onto this lifeline he had been presented with.

  Simon had been ready to die. That hammer had been inches from ending it all.

  He didn’t want to. But what choice did he have? Well, now he had the choice. So what should he choose?

  Becoming a subordinate of this prick wasn’t something he would ever agree to. But what about just being a bystander?

  Simon looked out toward Varnholt. It would almost be poetic. The people who had stood by while he was sent to his death would have karma fly right back in their faces. He could save Kurda, Brian, Emrick, and more.

  Assuming Varrax kept his word, that is.

  But why wouldn’t he?

  The god clearly had something he wanted from or to see from Simon. Was it that he would go against the other gods? That he would eventually agree and become a servant?

  The second thing was never going to happen.

  The first though?

  There were countless assholes that needed a heavy dose of payback.

  This choice would let him get there; the alternative was death.

  Simon needed some form of help in this new world. Why not this asshole? Pick the best of the worst options available.

  He hated to admit it, but the god was right. Even after all the curses and everything pointing him towards anything but fighting, Simon had just charged towards it anyway.

  How stupid was that anyway? Melodian’s curse was nowhere near as restrictive as Varrax's, yet Simon had defaulted to just hitting things.

  And now he could gain a class that would fit that style. It would even get rid of the skill that randomly summoned a freaking kazoo.

  A martial weapon summoning technique. How much easier could his life have been if he had that? How different could the fights have been?

  The memory of Kaelalin strung in the air, blood dripping from her, flashed in his mind.

  He could have killed that fucking monster.

  Instead, he had Flutey McBullshit. He had flailed around with a fucking flute. All because of some petty asshole god.

  Not Varrax. Melodian.

  He wouldn’t even be here if it hadn’t been for that asshole. Kaelalin and Brian would have never met him.

  Kaelalin would have never left the town after dark.

  Simon still had his part to play in all of this. But what Varrax had said gave him hope. Could he resurrect her? Didn’t that make this choice simple?

  Simon’s eyes shifted to Maelis. The maniac’s face was still twisting and struggling. The green pustule on his shoulder pulsed rhythmically.

  He deserved it.

  Simon looked at the other vessels.

  He had almost forgotten they were there. Each one of them stood, vacant-eyed and staring. Unmoving and blank-faced.

  The silence on the mountainside was eerie.

  Was every single one of them once a person?

  And now they were just puppets. Simon looked at the one controlled by Varrax. The creature's skin continued to degrade and burn away. The red misty energy seemed to eat away at its body. Yet it sat there, in meditation, as if nothing was wrong.

  These would be his allies. Could he deal with that?

  Maybe.

  The vacant expressions brought back dark memories from Melodian’s realm. When his body had been stolen from him. When the god had piloted him like some type of flesh puppet.

  If all gods were assholes, then shouldn’t he take the option that would let him live? Let him grow strong enough so that none could do this to him?

  Did any of that even matter? This army was going to take Varnholt. Simon was already basically dead. He could feel the effects of Anima Control continue to sap away at him. He couldn’t use it for much more, and all it was doing at this point was keeping his bones together.

  There were only two options. Either choose this, or die.

  And how would dying help? He had already accepted his death, but even that had been yanked away.

  He looked back at Varnholt.

  He could save them. Emrick and his crazy fashion sense. Kurda and his down-to-earth wisdom. The no-nonsense Jorik. Edgy Dravlen. Scary Serel. Simon could save them all.

  Everyone else in town that had voted him out would be screwed, but fuck them.

  Even thinking that made Simon’s mind flinch. He knew they were all just scared. Hell, he was scared too, but his reaction to it was go, go, go.

  But this was the new universe. You needed power to stand up against these assholes.

  Out of everyone, he owed it to Brian the most. Him and his crazy inventions.

  Simon wondered if the Inventor ever thought his Avalanche barrier would be used repel a fucking army. Had he known, he probably would have…

  Simon blinked, his mind screeching to a halt.

  A dumb idea grew in his mind.

  A really dumb idea.

  His eyes raced around him. He was still encircled. There was no way out.

  Simon looked up to where he had jumped down off the mountain. He looked back to the barrier.

  Would it work?

  He scanned the vessels around him, then to his bruised and damaged hands. There was no way he could swing enough. The way he fought wouldn’t do what he wanted.

  But what if he didn’t? What if he did something that even he didn’t think he would ever do?

  He thought back to the origins of his skill.

  Didn’t it make sense? It should work that way, right?

  To his side, the vessel of phestun that held Varrax’s spirit rose.

  “What is your choice, mortal?”

  Simon’s frantic eyes met the glowing ones of Varrax.

  “My choice?” Simon nodded. “I choose to accept your boon, and option two is that I die? Right? Either way, you take this valley?”

  “Correct.”

  “If I choose to accept, you swear my friends will be safe,” Simon said hesitantly.

  “I do.” The vessel smiled.

  Simon nodded thoughtfully, then stared the god-inhabited vessel down. “That sounds like a great deal. The smart thing to do.”

  “I’m glad you are capable of seeing reason.” The smile cracked, and more flesh fell from the vessel. “You are free to discuss the resurrection of your friend with my disciples. Many things can be arranged.”

  Simon nodded. “Sounds great.”

  There was a long, awkward silence. Simon stared down at his hands.

  “Well?” The vessel finally broke the silence, Varrax’s annoyance seeping into his voice.

  “Huh?” Simon said, looking up at Varrax.

  “...”

  They stared at each other.

  “Mortal.”

  “Asshole.”

  Disbelief spread across the rapidly disintegrating vessel. “What. Did. You. Just. Say.”

  Simon looked to the sky and bit his thumb. “Uhh… hold on, let me think. What did I just say?”

  The vessel blinked in disbelief.

  “Oh, right!” Simon turned back to Varrax. “I need to respond to that prompt.”

  The blistering fury of the god simmered lower. Slightly.

  Simon looked at the prompt.

  With everything in himself, he slammed the “NO.”

  The Varrax vessel froze.

  Simon split into a cheeky grin.

  “Not really sure if you can do anything with that body of yours, but it looks like your ankles are pretty much gone now.” He said, giving a nod of approval.

  Varrax turned the vessel’s head down. The creature's body was almost destroyed, barely holding together. The fury that radiated off him was almost a physical wave that crashed into Simon. Glowing eyes bored into him.

  Simon kept grinning.

  “I pick option three.”

  *pop!*

  Simon nearly did a jump for joy as a ukulele appeared in his hands.

  “It’s time for a concert!”

  His hand strummed the strings, and a discordant sound screeched from the instrument.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, after a long break, I’m back!” Simon boomed out. “Previously known as the host of Realm Rocker radio, I’m pleased to announce I’m beginning my career as a concert musician.”

  Screeching notes echoed out as Simon began to strum.

  “I hated it, and now I can make you hate it too. Give it up for: Riptide.”

  The vessel stepped forward, and the scream of rage from the god joined in the cacophony of notes. The creature only made it a few steps before it turned to ash, the presence of the god consuming the last of its body.

  With all the noise, Simon nearly missed the quiet note.

  *Ding!*

  —— ? ——

  — AUTHOR NOTICE —

  I’ve been thinking carefully about how to approach this, because I try to keep this space focused on the story.

  For those who don’t know much about me: I’m from the United States, and I live in the frozen state of Minnesota.

  A lot of this story’s setting is inspired by the world around me. Snow, ice, and long winters are things I’ve got plenty of firsthand experience with.

  Varnholt itself is also influenced by the people here. When it gets as cold as it does, you learn fast that you need hobbies you can do indoors.

  Silversmiths, jewelers, basket weavers, woodworkers, you name it. Someone in this state is probably doing it between snowstorms.

  Minnesota’s usually the kind of place that keeps to itself. We love our lakes, the outdoors, fishing, and retreating to our cabins away from everyone and everything.

  But lately, things here have been tense and honestly pretty scary.

  This story doesn’t shy away from what it thinks about power, coercion, and “servitude by another name.”

  If that’s on the nose right now… yeah. It is. Sometimes, real life catches up to the themes faster than expected. But I’m not going to pretend those themes don’t exist.

  I’m here to tell the story, not host a political brawl in the comments. If you’re going to comment, keep it respectful. I’m not interested in turning my story page into a warzone.

  Anyways, this brings me to why I'm posting today.

  This Friday, a lot of people across the state are participating in a shutdown protest. I’m going to join in.

  I considered delaying my Friday chapter, but instead I’m posting it early.

  Thank you all for reading my work and supporting my journey as an author. It means the world to me.

  There won’t be a separate chapter on Friday, as this one is replacing that.

  - TheBusyBard